


All the Pretty Boys

by Capzi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Canon Compliant, Castiel in Panties, Dean in Panties, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn With Plot, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capzi/pseuds/Capzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has a surprise for Dean: pretty panties and validation that he's okay to actually enjoy them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Pretty Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do some exploring of Dean's revulsion to being called pretty (damn you, John Winchester, and the way you drilled "femininity = weak, worthless" into our boy's head!) and figured, what better way than having he and Cas wear some cute lingerie and have sex?

           

* * *

 

            When Cas told him he had a surprise, early one morning as they were prepping to leave for a case, Dean was expecting something adorable or homemade or edible. Probably some combination of all the above.

 He definitely was not expecting Cas himself, suddenly naked except for a pair of satiny little panties that matched exactly the blue of his eyes.

 Dean let fall the two ties he’d been considering and groaned out loud, quickly grinding the heel of his hand into his very interested crotch. Cas gave the tiniest of smiles (fuckin’ _bastard)_ and did a slow turn, showing off the full effect.

 They looked silky, and were stretched tight over his ass, low on his hipbones. There was _lace_ around the edges, and, best of all, a dainty white bow just above the mouth-watering outline of Cas’ cock, straining up against the fabric.

 “I guess that you like it, then,” Cas murmured, taking a step closer to the bed and Dean, who could only nod happily as he reached for his surprise, about two seconds away from calling Sam to tell him they were taking the day off.

 But then Cas was pulling away and bringing out a small black gift bag from nowhere.

 “There’s more,” he announced, staring down at Dean. “These are for you.”

 Dean ripped his gaze from his boyfriend’s dick to the wispy object in his hands and inhaled sharply.

 The panties Cas held up were identical to the ones he wore, from the lace to the little bow…except the silky fabric was _pink_.

            Cas remembered the small things. He knew exactly how Dean took his coffee, his preferences for fabric softener when they had the luxury of choice, and collected all the stories of his growing-up somewhere in that vast, ancient mind. So really, it wasn’t at all that surprising he’d chosen to call on that particular memory Dean had admitted to him late one night after an especially wild time in bed.

 That didn’t stop Dean’s head from making a last-ditch effort at denial though, hesitating even as his cock throbbed at the thought of being wrapped up in the sleek cloth.

“I don’t know, babe. It’s hot as fuck on you, and all, but…” He tried to make another grab for Cas, to come up with a cute smile and redirect their attention back to the blue panties, but Cas just frowned and pulled away again.

“What’s wrong? I thought you would enjoy our wearing these today, and when we are finished working, we could enjoy…going back to bed.”

 He was so damn gorgeous, husky voice pronouncing the suggestive words and strong, beautiful hands still offering the garment. Dean sighed deeply, and was going, going, _gone_.

 “Okay, you win.”

 He tore the panties from Cas, unlaced his boots, dropped his pants, and kicked away his boxers. Licking his lips, he wavered for a moment. He glanced at Cas, receiving a quick nod in return, Cas’ own lips parted slightly and his eyes bright as Dean slowly tugged the underwear up his legs and over his ass.

The fit was snug, and he took a minute to adjust himself, settling his cock up toward his belly. He closed his eyes briefly, taking in the feeling of soft, thin fabric against his most sensitive skin. It was _freakin’ awesome,_ even better than he’d remembered it, especially with Cas staring at him with open hunger, eyes tracing up and down his barely-constrained package.

Dean just smirked. Yeah, this could work.

“So? ‘s it good?”

“So much so that I regret having given them to you now. I’m afraid I’m going to have trouble concentrating on the case today, Dean, knowing the secret my pizza-man is hiding.”

  _“Shit.”_ Dean grabbed at the back of Cas’ neck and pressed their lips together in a brief, open-mouthed kiss, desperate to shut him up for a minute before his self-control really did crumble. “No mixing kinks today, babe, you’re gonna have me creaming my pants like a teenager.”

“That doesn’t sound like an undesirable goal to me,” Cas whispered back, clearly determined to keep the kiss going, hands winding around Dean’s back and neck to hold him in place and doubtless that would have been the end of it if Sam hadn’t chosen that moment to knock on the bedroom door, loud and booming and meant to interrupt any kind of _something_ going on behind it.

“You guys ready? The coroner’s office opens at ten and it’s a two hour drive, let’s hit the road.”

Dean groaned in frustration before rolling his eyes and reaching for his pants. Cas looked exasperated as he mojo-ed his own clothes back on, trench and thick black suit covering all his fun parts.

 “This _will_ be continued,” Dean murmured sternly, jabbing a finger at Cas, who offered up a sly, hopeful smile and his Fed jacket.

 

          “Just describe the victim’s wounds as best you can, Sheriff, and don’t skimp on the hairy-scary.”

Now that there were three of them again working cases, Team Free Will could usually wrap up small-town monster maulings and the like in under a day or two, Dean doing the questioning, Cas running the field-work, and Sam covering lore. They teamed up for meeting the local police chief, mealtime discussions, and the inevitable nightly gore-fest. It was quick and easy and gratifying.

At least on days when Dean didn’t have to spend every freakin’ minute trying to conceal a hard-on.

Every time he even _moved,_ he felt the shift of silky fabric inside his thick black dress pants. When he sat down, elastic dug into his skin at the joining of his groin to his legs, the tightness of the panties and stifling material making him feel restricted and sweaty hot.

It had him completely out of his mind with arousal. If Dean’s brain had a spare drop of blood left in it for rational thought, he would have been grateful that Cas was out tracking today’s feature nightmare and not in this cramped, chilly office. He’d look so nice bent over the huge wooden desk, panting and squirming and knocking all the stacks of paperwork to the floor.

Luckily the beefy sheriff on the other side of that desk didn’t seem to notice a thing.

“It’s just like my officers told you, Agent Mercury, there’s nothing to suggest it was anything but a garden-variety bear attack.” Far from being clued-in to the fact that the agent in his office was fantasizing about fucking a celestial being, the sheriff sounded bored. Inconvenienced. Borderline annoyed.

“The Bureau just wants to be through in its investigation,” Dean answered patiently, wondering if Cas would mind having to fix the panties after he ripped them away in pieces. “Was there anything unusual in the way the body was found?”

The sheriff glowered over the desk and tapped a pencil against his palm, openly irritated now.

“Guy’s insides were on his outsides and it was a troop of Girl Scouts who got the unwanted anatomy lesson, is that enough for you? Go tell the Bureau it can stop sending pretty-boy male models to waste my time and slow up _my_ investigation, Agent.”

Dean felt his jaw clench involuntarily and his head pound as the blood came rushing back through it. He made to stand and found he didn’t need to make any attempt to hide the erection that had suddenly vanished.

“Right, I’ll do that. Thanks for your cooperation.” His tone was all acid, sent straight from the depths of his boiling gut, and he didn’t bother to wait or listen for a reply, just stormed down the dingy hallway until he became aware of his phone vibrating in his pocket.

“Yeah?”

“Dean, we got it.” Sam was breathless with exertion, but sounded fine and whole. “It was some kind of shape shifter, nasty sonofabitch, really big teeth, Cas took its head off. We’re at the abandoned water treatment center, we’ll come get you.” He hung up.

Dean sighed and leaned back against the concrete wall, filled with relief that his family was okay and that they could pack it in early. He glanced up the hall again and saw the sheriff snort and roll his eyes as he walked off in the opposite direction. He fought the urge to throw the bird at his retreating fat ass.

“Nice work taking down the _bear_ today, Officer.”

 

           They had dinner at a small diner on the outskirts of town, Sam grimy and ravenous, Cas as clean and composed as ever. Dean was silent as he chomped his patty melt, baffled at the sudden appearance of his bad mood. He’d even forgotten why finishing the job early was a _really good_ thing until Sam left to pay the check and Cas immediately slid over the vinyl seat until he was practically in Dean’s lap, one hand reaching down to stroke him, just once, through a layer of cotton and a layer of silk, without the slightest change in expression.

“Cas, _fuck.”_

Cock suddenly reacquainted with their little surprise, Dean bit back a moan. Okay. He’d been good and done the job and now it was time to go home. They were doing this, right fucking now.

“…anyway,” Sam dropped back down on his side of the booth, continuing his wrap-up of the case. “Cas whipped out his angel blade and just ended the thing. Wrote up a description in the journal, but I still think it was a one-off kind of deal.”

Sam dragged a few stray fries through his smear of ketchup and tossed them back triumphantly. His grin slowly faded as he took in the _look_ being exchanged on the other side of the booth; Dean was making no effort to hide his mental undressing of Cas, or the hand that grabbed urgently at his thigh.

“Hey, know what? How about you guys just angel-zap back home and let me take the Impala?”

 

           Cas remembered the small things. Like exactly what spot to kiss on Dean’s throat to drive him out of his mind, and to restock their lube supply as often as he could manage, so that at moments like this, when the only coherent thoughts in Dean’s head were single words – ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘naked’ and ‘now’ – they wouldn’t have to be interrupted by a quick flight to the drugstore.

Dean steered them toward the bed, mouths fully engaged, tongues hot and rough as they panted against one another, but once Cas’ knees hit the edge of the mattress and collapsed them against it, he took the opportunity to pull away and flip Cas around so that his ass ground up against Dean’s cock.

Cas, bless him, let himself be manhandled easily. His trust in Dean, his confidence that he would bring him pleasure struck Dean as intensely erotic, and he bucked his hips impatiently, frustrated by their boring outerwear.

“Clothes, Cas,” Dean murmured against his angel’s neck before biting hard, nose full of Cas’ damp hair and arms wrapped tight around his body.

Cas shuddered from where he was braced against the bed, arms tense from holding them both up, but he granted the request. The next time Dean thrust forward, it was to feel only silk sliding on silk, his groin nearly naked in the cleft of Cas’ cheeks.

He jolted them forward a few more times, slowly, almost lazily, savoring the gentle friction generated by their panties rubbing up against one another.

Cas huffed impatiently and squirmed out of Dean’s embrace. Dean was about to protest before he realized Cas was only going to retrieve the lube from underneath the bed. He slapped the bottle in Dean’s hand and crawled right back under him, braced on all fours.

“I thought you totally on board with getting off in our underwear,” Dean mused, his tone and fingers teasing as he pulled the blue fabric to one side and pressed at the welcoming heat of Cas’ fluttering hole.

Cas leaned back into the fingertip breaching him and gave a little hum of satisfaction before answering in a voice that was raw with want and bliss.

“Don’t take them off, then.”

 _Damn,_ but this angel would be the death of him after all.

Dean worked with increasing desperation, sliding his well-lubed fingers home again and again as he tugged aside the panties with his other hand, raising red marks on Cas’ ass with the elastic. The cute, lacy edges looked so nice holding his balls to the side, just barely exposing the rosy little hole swallowing up Dean easy.

He would have been pretty damn content ending the evening there, fingering Cas til he came against blue satin, but Cas groaned suddenly, deep and warning, and reached around to grip Dean’s thigh.

“More,” he ground out. “Dean, I want more, I want your cock, now.”

And despite the satisfaction of undoing Cas with just his hands, Dean was more than willing to give in to the request.

His cock was hot and eager as he dragged it up over the edge of his panties, sensitive to the lace and the tiny bow bunched on the underside. Dean couldn’t resist watching as he guided the tip across blue fabric (leaving just a faint glimmer of wetness) and into the space between silky material and Cas’ warm, smooth skin. He connected their bodies at a painfully slow speed – Cas arching and moaning in desperation – but finally, when he looked down, it was to see the pink and blue meeting again between them.

“ _Dean,”_ Cas breathed, rotating his hips to try to spur more friction, and Dean took that as his cue.

He thrust deep and hard, hands going to fondle the lace over Cas’ hipbones, feeling himself build almost dangerously fast as he almost knocked Cas down to his belly with the force of his rutting.

Cas sang out in a breathy gasp and dropped down to his forearms anyway, one hand slipping into his panties to stroke his cock as his knees spread a little wider.

“Fuck, Cas, you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now?” Dean snapped at the elastic over his angel’s hips, reveling in the moan Cas gave as the panties momentarily tightened further.

“Jacking yourself off in those cute little panties, stuffed full of cock, taking it all in like a good little angel. You gonna come for me, Cas? You’ve been thinkin’ about this all day, haven’t you, getting nice and hard fantasizing about being fucked from behind. You gonna spill in your panties, get ‘em all wet with cum for me?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas panted, hand moving faster and heading dropping forward with each ragged breath.

“So damn beautiful like this. So pretty in your little blue panties, your tight, hot ass up in the air, getting fucked hard.”

“You’re very pretty too, Dean,” Cas managed to utter, barely audible with the roughness of his voice. “I love how pretty you are in your pink panties, and I love being fucked by a pretty man.

Dean blinked and immediately stopped moving consciously, only his hips stuttering forward into Cas reflexively as the strange words broke through the haze of lust. But it was enough to drive Cas over the edge of his climax with a broken sob, hole clenching around Dean before he collapsed face-first into the comforter, one hand still underneath his quivering body.

Dean just watched, head spinning, as Cas gasped and strained for some sense of coherency, eventually flipping himself over again with a grunt of effort. The front of his panties were soaked with sweat, lube, and cum and his lips were quirked in a sleepy, sated half-smile.

At least until he took in his boyfriend’s flagging erection and frowned like he’d done before, early in the day.

“You didn’t finish,” Cas said simply, gaze trailing up Dean’s body to the expression on his face. “Dean? Are you alright?”

“You think I’m _pretty?”_

The question felt bitter and forced in Dean’s mouth. He’d barely even noticed that he hadn’t come, his distress was building up so fast.

Cas gave the confused little ‘humanity is more baffling than I anticipated’ head-tilt that was a throwback to his first days on Earth and raised himself slowly to his elbows to study Dean.

“Yes. And this is a problem for you.”

He was _infuriating_ calm, as if they were discussing the weather or a ghost or some shit. Dean felt his blood boil up even further, heating his face.

“Hunters aren’t pretty, Cas, you know that. You gotta be tough to cut it with the crap we do.”

“I’ve slaughtered thousands,” Cas said mildly, pulling himself up to a kneeling position with Dean. “I’ve fought wars millennia before you existed. Yet you call me pretty. Am I not tough?”

Dean dropped his gaze (the staring thing never went away, especially when Cas realized he was free to look as much as he wanted) and focused on a loose thread in the comforter instead, willing himself not to squirm like a kid.

“ ‘Course you are, but it’s different for you, Cas. You’re a badass angel. You ain’t got nothing to prove.”

Cas’ hand was gentle sliding across his jaw and chin, guiding Dean’s eyes back to his warm blue ones. Cas refused to break contact, kept him locked in until Dean felt something soften and fall inside himself, releasing in a long, shaky breath, before Cas would speak again.

“Neither do you have anything to prove, Dean.”

And any kind of denial or argument or protest Dean wanted so desperately to come up with in that moment seemed to immediately, completely fail. It felt like his brain had rebooted all of a sudden, plunging him into a new existence where it was somehow acceptable to let his jaw fall open in shock before asking, in a weird, _hopeful_ voice, “Really?”

Cas smiled openly now, still holding Dean’s face in his hands.

“Of course. You’ve experienced a life of so little joy; you do not deserve to let those pleasures that you _do_ have be taken from you through fear of other’s expectations. You _are_ pretty, Dean. And handsome and strong and kind and gentle and tough. And I love you for all the things that you do and are.”

“Oh.”

It sounded flat and small next to such a fuckin’ _huge_ declaration, but Dean was still too stunned to command the power of real speech and Cas only huffed a breath of laughter and kissed him soundly, hands dropping to stroke his arms, sides, hips. Dean groaned impatiently as the kiss elevated back to something frantic and consuming, arousal returning and demanding to reach a completion.

Cas took Dean in his strong, warm fist and nipped at his lips leisurely, like he had all damn night to do this. But Dean felt himself bucking into the friction instantly, stomach pulling in and jerking as Cas worked, his other hand holding firm at his hip, thumb playing at the lace.

He buried his face in Cas’ neck and bit down to muffle his shout as he finally came, cum spilling hot over Cas’ fingers and spoiling his panties.

Dean swayed into the firm body against his for a moment before letting himself drop down on the mattress, suddenly exhausted. His arms and legs felt warm and useless, his mind quiet. He closed his eyes for a beat, already looking forward to the pure, uninterrupted night’s sleep he could feel coming, then opened them at the abrupt weight that fell against his chest.

He found Cas arranging himself on folded arms, watching him and being raised up and down slightly with every inhale and exhale. His angel was almost heavy, and a little bony, elbows dull points in Dean’s skin, but he wrapped Cas up in his arms and dragged him closer. They both sighed, too content to even pull up the covers.

“How’s the view, Cas.”

“You’re as pretty as ever, Dean.”

“Damn straight I am.”

 It was a small thing, he knew: the spark of warmth he felt at accepting the compliment, in Cas’ giving it, taken across the angel’s hundreds of millions of years of existence. But Cas remembered the small things.

“We’re getting more of these. I’m fucking you in one of those see-through, red lace thongs tomorrow night.”

“Am I wearing the thong, or are you?” Cas yawned, sounding unconcerned with the answer.

“Depends on whoever kills something big and ugly first. Deal?”

“It’s a deal.” Cas pressed a kiss to Dean’s chest and reached for the comforter. “Good night, my beautiful hunter.”


End file.
